Stockings First Love – A True Erotica Part 2. Category: Long and Satisfying.
Welcome to ‘Stockings First Love – A True Erotica Story, part 1.’
This true story was originally published in January 2024 on my old site. I have opted to re-publish in the same format: in three parts. The first two parts set the scene, really, and the third part contains the hotter stuff. This story is, by virtue of its subject matter, gentle. If you like the harder and dirtier stuff, come back in a little while for my next story. If, however, you’d like a gently erotic confessional of where the obsession with hosiery and fancy undies comes from, stick around.
A couple of people previously asked me if this story was really true, and the answer is yes, it really is. I changed the names, but the rest of it, warts and all, is true. That said, I know from my professional experience that memory is malleable and flexible. It isn’t frozen in time but is liable to alter and shift with each and every episode of recal. How memory works is a fascinating topic all on its own.
When I wrote this account, the events I relate were 15 years before. Another 18 months have now elapsed. The story is true to the best of my memory, but I leave you with this caveat: there may be a bit of rose-tinting which has crept in over the years and the agonies of pining for Jenna, which I subsequently endured, probably colour my recollection today. When I originally published this story, I included an epilogue which was unnecessary, so I won’t be republishing it. All that needs to be said is, I got my teenage heart smashed into teeny-tiny pieces.
1.
In case you hadn’t guessed, I’m pretty much obsessed with nice hosiery; stockings in particular. I’m very much a ‘girly girl’, and completely unapologetically so. I’ll wear a well-cut pair of jeans or maybe some leggings just like the next girl, but I’ll never waste an opportunity to pull out a nice dress or skirt, and, unless it’s really cold, I normally pair it with stockings or holdups underneath. You know it’s been cold in the UK over the last week or so because I’ve been wearing thick tights! Tights can be sexy, of course, but stockings are my true love.
It was not always the case.
When I was in my early teens, I, of course, wore tights when I was wearing a skirt or dress, unless the weather was warm. My mother, to the best of my knowledge, never wore stockings, so there was no female role model to encourage me in that direction. I just didn’t see the point. Why faff about with a belt to keep them up and have to keep adjusting them? I was heavily into sports, and. consequently, spent most of my time in sportswear.
Then I met another girl in 6th form college… We became good friends and hung out a lot.
So, this friend of mine, let’s call her Jenna, was very feminine. She wasn’t astoundingly pretty, but she did have a nice figure. She got a lot of attention from the boys, though, because she always took a lot of trouble over her appearance and often wore a skirt or dress when the rest of us were in jeans or leggings. I also became aware that she would sometimes wear stockings, which intrigued me. I teased her about it a little, but she just said it made her feel nice. Plus, she liked having a secret that only she knew about.
2.
Jenna had an indulgent mother who was (I thought) very glamourous; immaculately turned out even when she was nipping out to the shops. Jenna told me that when she turned 16, her mum had taken her shopping for underwear. Not to ‘Marks and Spencer’ but to a boutique lingerie shop whilst they were on a trip to London. Her mum had said to her that she was now a young woman and that, as such, she should learn about the importance of dressing well, and not only the layers which people could see.
Since that trip, Jenna’s knicker drawer had been steadily filled with a collection of lingerie which any well-put-together 30-something would be proud of, including a selection of suspender belts in various colours and stockings to go with them. Jenna confided in me that she would often lounge about on her bed listening to music, just wearing her favourite lingerie, admiring herself in her dressing mirror and and enjoying the sensations of the various types of sheer fabric on her skin. She kept goading me that I should try it and, eventually, despite my embarrassment, I agreed that I would place myself in her hands, let her dress me up and see what all the fuss was about.
Although Jenna’s mum was evidently broad-minded, I insisted that I would not go through with this unless we were alone. So, one Saturday evening, when her parents were invited out to a dinner party, Jenna invited me around. She had invented the ‘cover story’ that I was going to come over and we were going to watch movies and eat pizza. Her mum had obligingly ordered in pizza, but we decided to do the dressing first, Jenna, because she was clearly excited to see how this would go and me, because I rather wanted to get it over with so we could eat pizza and watch whatever crappy movie my 18-year-old self was anxious to see.
3.
We had seen each other almost naked before, in changing rooms and so on, but this was quite different, and I was very nervous and embarrassed and keenly aware of the bits of me that I thought might not stand up to the close scrutiny of another girl (welcome to womanhood!)
Guessing that some ‘Dutch courage’ might be needed, Jenna had pinched a couple of glasses of wine from the fridge. I downed mine in a couple of large gulps. Jenna grinned.
‘Don’t be nervous! This is going to be fun!’ She opened her top drawer and began fishing out various pieces of lacy frippery and laying them out on the bed. I noticed that the items that she had picked were either white or black.
‘I think we’ll put you in black – can’t go wrong with black!’ I just nodded my acquiescence.
Stripping off was like death by a thousand cuts. I had never got naked with another girl before, when it was not for the purposes of putting on a swimming costume or bikini, but soon we were both stark naked, standing in front of each other. I felt my cheeks burning.
I was pretty sure that I was feeling aroused, but rationalised it as nerves.
‘Come on then,’ Jenna said, in a soft voice. ‘Let’s see what we can make you look like.’
4.
I stood, naked as a stone, in front of my friend and let her dress me. Like an oversized Barbie. She was very gentle and went to some trouble to show me how to attach the clips on the suspender belt to the sheer stockings, which she had helped me pull up my thighs. I remember the belt had six straps in all, which I thought was altogether too many and very fiddly.
I was very interested to see that she put on a pair of soft gloves to pull up the stockings.
‘To stop me snagging the nylon with my nails,’ she explained.
You know that scene in Titanic where Kate asks Leo to paint her ‘like one of his French girls’ and later on recalls that it had been the most erotic experience of her life to that point? That’s exactly how I would describe this experience. Bear in mind that, at this point, I was firmly convinced that I was as straight as a straight thing; I had never even contemplated that I might be otherwise. The feeling of the sheer fabric slipping over my skin, the scent of Jenna’s hair as she bent in front of me to fasten the catches on the suspenders, her soft hands brushing against me as she helped me dress. It would be fair to say that I was feeling very confused and flustered.
5.
I remember saying very little and just nodding when she asked if I liked something. Eventually, I was standing, dressed in Jenna’s expensive lingerie (she had put me in some of her best), in front of the full-length mirror, somewhat disappointed that the unexpectedly thrilling experience of being dressed up by another girl was over. I had never seen myself like that before. I was both shocked and delighted. Jenna had been right, of course – the sheer black fabric and stocking tops looked striking against my pale skin. I just stood and stared.
‘What do you think?’ Said Jenna. I turned to look at her and found that she had already dressed herself in the white lingerie with the silent speed of a well-practised hand. She nudged me to one side and we stood together, looking into the mirror; me, silently taking it in, and she with a little smile on her face.
‘I knew you would look amazing!’ She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘What do you think then? Have I made you a convert?.’ I could only nod in response. I remember that my mouth was very dry.
‘I think we should stay like this, bring the pizza and a couple more glasses of wine up and lounge about on the bed and watch movies on my telly. Whatcha think?’
6.
And that’s what we did. Jenna angled the mirror so it reflected the bed, and we sat, and, later, reclined and ate and drank our wine and kept half an eye on the TV and half an eye on the two lingerie models reflected back at us in the mirror.
I was disappointed when it was time to take the lovely underwear off and pull my boring cotton knickers and bra back on. Following that evening, whenever her parents went out, I would be invited round to ‘keep Jenna company’.
Keeping Jenna company, of course, meant dressing up. We also experimented with doing each other’s make-up and hair. Looking back on it now, I feel such a sense of gratitude and happiness about that time. It really felt like a landmark time for me in the transition from girl to self-aware, sexually-aware woman. Was she my first love? I’ll get to that in a later instalment.
The lounging on the bed developed too. On subsequent evenings, it felt like the most natural thing when we began to brush the other with our fingertips, exploring the sensation of moving from nylon and sheer soft fabrics to smooth, warm skin.
7.
At this point in time, we both considered ourselves to be entirely straight (I think that is true for her as well, although I don’t think we ever had an explicit conversation to that end). We would giggle and talk about some boy at college and gently touch each other’s thigh, or arm, while we laughed. It was all rather blissfully free of needing to put a label on it. Whatever ‘it’ was. I think that is what made it so lovely.
Apart from an introduction to lingerie and stockings, which has remained a passion for me ever since (as well as the notion that I may not be entirely heterosexual), Jenna also gave me my first introduction to what a really sensual, non-rushed, sexual encounter was like. Although I had lost my virginity with my first boyfriend a couple of years before that, it was like most straight teenage sex – quick and urgent and not especially sensual.
I had my first kiss with a girl with Jenna.
I had discovered masturbation several years before and had taken to it enthusiastically, but Jenna gave me my first really satisfying, non-solo orgasm from her ever-so-gentle fingers.
The practice of dressing in my finest and lounging about watching TV or listening to music and drinking wine was something that I have continued (admittedly, it’s an occasional pleasure nowadays) and I have that and many other things to thank Jenna for.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this more introspective account. Part two tells of the first part of an evening which ‘changed everything’ as far as I was concerned. I hope you’ll join me for it.
Love, Jaimie xx
Links and Stuff
I’m wearing my favourite ‘budget’ seamed stockings in the picture. I’ve had several pairs over the years, and they are amazing; they look great, last for ages and are really great value for money. These are they.
